


Choice

by ablindromance



Category: Dir en grey
Genre: M/M, Mild Language, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 08:25:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3440330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ablindromance/pseuds/ablindromance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kyo is given one small freedom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Choice

**Author's Note:**

> This is a throwback to The Demon and the Samurai series, namely Book 2.

Kyo lowered his head to the futon below him and relaxed into Daisuke's arms. Like a feline, he lay on his side, long body stretched out and blanketed by the man behind him. He was all torso and fingers, though he wasn't fortunate enough to have legs to match. But that didn't seem to matter to his master, his prey, who took him for the third time since they met. On the contrary, Daisuke seemed to praise what he did and did not possess. He never fully undressed Kyo, but rather peeled back a layer of clothing here and there. A flash of skin was better than a buffet of it.

At least for now, Kyo gathered that much about the samurai's tastes. Any time Kyo was completely stripped was his own doing.

Daisuke covered him and filled him up. Scars pressed against patterns of ink previously slick with the wetness of Daisuke's kiss. He took the most time with Kyo's back, entranced by the intricacies of innumerable lines and colors and stories etched into the skin. His broad hands ceremoniously caressed the arms of the Senjukannon, and when he finally kissed her lips, Kyo shuddered. The demon had all the time in the world, but he was eager for this.

Lost beneath that thick, silky curtain of hair, Kyo huffed softly and clenched his hand with the fingers laced between his own. His back arched when Daisuke thrusted into him and hit just the right spot, just the right depth, to make him quiver. Kyo gave another start but buried his face further into the linen.

Daisuke had his fair share of lovers, but he never liked the noisy ones. He was never too noisy himself. Loudness and dramatics only meant that the feelings were fake. He didn't like obnoxious performances.

Kyo never had to perform. In fact, it was the hushed sex that was the most gratifying. The more intense it felt, the more silent he'd (struggle to) become. The realness of heavy breaths and muffled moans, the rawness of flesh in flesh, proved to be genuine. No acting was necessary.

"Ah... Master..."

"Please, don't call me that," Daisuke whispered into his ear. Old habits die hard. The samurai punished him with another firm thrust. Kyo jolted, words caught in his throat. His voice tripped over them and he panted instead. He turned his flustered face just so and peered into the black tendrils hanging over him. He would have reached out to touch them but he was pinned, without complaint, where he lay. An attentive lover, Daisuke took that shift as a request to be allowed up and he loosed Kyo’s hand from his grip. Briefly tossing his head, he shoveled his hair back over his shoulder and out of the way. Licking parched lips, he planted them to the shell of Kyo’s ear and behind it. His free hand slipped beneath the thin sheet that covered them both and wrestled its way under Kyo’s hips. When Daisuke felt the other’s engorged cock fit into his palm, he rolled onto his side and took the demon with him. Chest to back, Daisuke held the other against him and idly moved his hand down the slick length.

Kyo found it strange. Daisuke had no obligation to reciprocate such pleasures. Most buyers never did, so this was a new and interesting change. Perhaps Daisuke forgot, so Kyo reminded him that such favors weren’t his responsibility by gently grabbing his wrist. 

It didn‘t stop him. His stroking continued, purposeful but unhurried, and his hips scooped up into the smaller body without hesitation. Kyo amplified his submission by dropping his head away from Daisuke’s gentle lips and offering his marked back instead. A waiting mouth obediently went to praise the beauty of the flesh. Kyo softly uttered his satisfaction and nearly forgot his fingers still clung to the other’s wrist. 

He accepted that Daisuke would satiate him despite the lack of reason to do so. The samurai’s head-strong, stubborn desire to do things his way (that Kyo currently benefitted from) was a trait that set him apart from other sloppy patrons. And even with his generous nature, he didn’t give Kyo _everything_.

The demon noticed from previous encounters that Daisuke would not _claim_ him. Hours of seduction led to sluggish minutes of sex, but seconds away from fulfillment, he would always dislodge himself and spill his seed on unappreciative sheets. 

It bothered Kyo. Such a gesture was explicitly peculiar, especially between two men. Only female courtesans had the worries of pregnancy. Masochists of their own decadence, they’d sooner have the child beaten out of them or abort the pregnancy with wive's tale remedies than to shamefully carry the product of their carelessness. That is, of course, if they didn’t find themselves “in love” with their patrons and determined to inject themselves into the man’s life through blackmail-children. Often times the happy ending wasn’t so happy, and they’d find themselves abandoned, out of work, and left with only a precious human momento of a man whom she once loved and thought loved her back. 

The first and second time Daisuke turned away from him, he felt a slight abandonment, too. His pride snubbed the human for the rejection, then buzzed days later about the reason why he was rejected. Now was no different. Grasping for words amid the distraction of penetration, he spoke.

“Daisuke?”

“Mm?” The reply was there but equally distracted.

“…Why don’t you ever come inside of me? You won’t claim me.”

Daisuke’s hooded eyes lifted but he didn’t stop stroking the other. As if using Kyo’s body to contemplate the answer, he tightened his fist around the length in his hand and spoke against a tattooed shoulder.

“You didn’t give me permission.”

Kyo found that laughable. In fact, he did laugh in a single huff of breath as he was being slain by that strong and gentle hand.

“I don’t really have a choice in the matter.”

“But you do. I’m giving you the choice,” he said as simply as if he were stating that the sky was blue and grass was green.

Choice? That was something very foreign to servants and courtesans. All they knew was duty. In his human skin, he had very little choice in anything. The lack of such a simple freedom was why he felt so smothered in it. But now? Now he could breathe just a bit and link the space between human and demon life. Now, he had a hook for the samurai, a little piece of control for subtle manipulation. 

“Please,” he pleaded, releasing Daisuke’s wrist and bracing against the futon to arch his ass into the other. “I want you to. Always.” A long limb reached back to claw Daisuke’s backside and pull the samurai further into him. 

The simple plea was a surprise, but Daisuke listened. Finally, he cornered the demon with a refusal so skillful that it drove him to _ask_ for this. His answer came prompt and complete without a single word. 

Kyo was jarred with every deliciously filling buck of Daisuke’s hips. The great pressure mounting inside of him was relentless and sweet. The frequent, pounding movement, the clap of skin against skin, the sting of being whole threw him into a dizzying spiral. He could feel Daisuke reaching up the length of his spine in little jolts of electricity from the small of his back. The hard press of hips that pushed him were received by the hand that pulled him. 

Kyo felt like a piece of paper being undone in gradual little tears. When the final fibers could no longer withstand the opposing pulls of Daisuke’s ministrations, he blanked out in a flash of white light and poured himself into those long fingers. Minutes after, Daisuke did the same. 

As demanded, he came into Kyo’s body and remained there even after he reached his peak. 

The sensation, normally undetectable, felt like wine poured into a fresh wound. The burn fueled itself and Kyo became drunk from it.

He became sick from it. 

He became high from it. 

Despite the highs and lows, he felt _something_. Something was always better than the fixed nothing he was so used to. 

Overwhelmed, he lay prone and full beneath Daisuke. For the first time, it was his choice to be so completely undone. 


End file.
